The Storm
by Jennyyy
Summary: Sequel to Sleight of Hand. D'artagnan is allowed out on his first mission since Vadim, but poor weather conditions combined with a cold mean things quickly take a turn for the worse. Reviews are always welcome- feel free to leave some constructive criticism!
1. Liberation

Chapter One- Liberation

The day dawned bright and fair as D'artagnan stirred and opened his eyes. This was a day he had been looked forward to for weeks; ever since his brush with Vadim and subsequent breakdown, his friends had been conspiring with Treville to ensure that he did not leave the Garrison, partaking in stable work and light training until Treville deemed him fit for a mission. Being the stubborn man that he was, D'artagnan had quickly become bored and frustrated with the Garrison, especially when he saw his brothers riding out on frequent missions. However, he had held his tongue and behaved, knowing that any outward signs of anger would serve to amuse either amuse or irritate his brothers; either one would lead to more time spent under 'house arrest' as her rather melodramatically saw it.

Today his patience paid off. Treville had informed him last night that he, Athos, Porthos and Aramis would be going on a mission to deliver some papers to the Duke of Anjou- hardly a thrilling mission, but it would take about a week of hard riding to get there and back, and D'artagnan relished the opportunity to be back on his horse. Although he knew his brothers had been acting in his best interests, he was sick and tired of just looked after the horses rather than being on them, although he had gained a great respect from the other musketeers and recruits as an excellent horse master. D'artagnan didn't know how to feel about this; he wanted to become a musketeer, not a glorified stable boy.

After getting dressed and preparing a saddlebag for the journey, D'artagnan headed downstairs to meet his brothers at their normal table for breakfast. As expected, Athos was the only one there at the early hour; his hat pulled low over his eyes was a tell-tale sign of the headache that plagued him. Aramis would be no doubt with someone else's woman, while Porthos would still be asleep. D'artagnan smiled fondly at his brothers' antics while sitting down at the table and helping himself to porridge.

"Not eating, Athos?" he asked, already knowing the answer before he asked.

"I am not sure you would appreciate the consequences that would arise in a few minutes if I did" Athos replied, a grimace on his face at the thought.

"Make sure you take something for the journey then, don't want you collapsing on us" D'artagnan smiled, the grin abruptly vanishing as he realised just how much he sounded like a certain medic.

"I think you've done enough collapsing for the both of us for the next few years, D'artagnan" Athos answered, a slight gleam of amusement in his eyes at the faint blush that coloured the Gascon's cheeks.

"Well, anyway" D'artagnan hurried on. "Where are the others? We're due to leave in an hour, and Treville will not be impressed if we're late because of Aramis' late night antics"

"When have I ever put my recreational pursuits before my duty, D'artagnan?" Aramis asked, sitting down at the table with an amused smirk on his face.

"Pretty much every day" D'artagnan laughed. "Now, some of us actually want to leave on time- while you- and Porthos, when he arrives- are stuffing your faces, I am going to get the horses ready". With that, he walked off in the direction of the stables.

"He can't wait to get out of here, can he?" Aramis said knowingly, watching as the Gascon vanished into the stables. "The boy longs for adventure and excitement; it's really rather endearing to see someone so invested in the musketeers."

"It's foolish" Athos replied, his temper somewhat short due to his overindulgence the night before. "His 'bravery' and foolhardiness is going to get him into trouble one day."

"Give it a rest, Athos" Aramis sighed. "Think of what your harsh words did to him last time; just let him have a good time on his first mission back before you get back to tutoring him so severely."

Once into the safety of the stables, D'artagnan let out the harsh cough that had been irritating him over breakfast. Knowing full well that his brothers would postpone his leaving if they knew that he had a slight cold, he had done his best to conceal it from them. He knew that he had been successful, merely because they were still allowing him to go on the mission with them; they could be so overprotective sometimes. D'artagnan knew he should be honoured and gratified- he was glad that they clearly cared about him, but sometimes the mollycoddling was a bit overwhelming.

However, D'artagnan had to admit that he wasn't feeling brilliant as he put the saddlebags on the horse, full of the provisions that Serge had provided- his head hurt, and his nose was running, as well as the cough that had been tickling him for the last few days; but a small cold was not going to deter him from his first mission in a month.

Despite D'artagnan's worry, all of the men (including Porthos, who had arrived at the Garrison around five minutes before they were due to leave) were ready to go on time. Athos received the papers from Treville, who told him to keep an eye on D'artagnan, and the men trotted out of the Garrison.

The sense of liberation washed over D'artagnan as they eft the streets of Paris and galloped over the path that took them away from the city- the feeling was so strong that he laughed aloud, drawing amused glances from Aramis and Porthos.

"Somethin' tickled you, whelp?" Porthos asked, a grin tugging at his mouth.

"Just relishing the joy of life" D'artagnan called back, laughing at the expression on Porthos' face. "You can take fresh air and freedom for granted when you're locked up in the Garrison all day".

"Yes, we are sorry about that" Aramis interjected "But we wanted you to be fighting fit before coming on another mission; you took years off our lives with the whole Vadim incident."

"Thought we'd agreed not to speak of that again?" D'artagnan said, his attempt at severity ruined by the broad smile on his face.

"Apologies, mon ami" Aramis laughed. Spirits were high- there was no feeling quite like leaving the city behind and riding off into the unknown; it was what each man believed he was born for.


	2. Age before Beauty

**I forgot to put a note on the last chapter, but I'm back with the sequel to Sleight of Hand. I really hope you enjoy it, I've learned from my mistake last time and wrote a few chapters in advance so I hopefully will not keep you waiting! Please feel free to follow, favourite and review- I really love to get some feedback!**

 **Chapter 2- Age before Beauty**

The journey to Anjou passed without incident, each man enjoying the others' company and the favourable conditions; it truly seemed that a higher power was smiling down on them. After a day or so, D'artagnan was not able to hide his cough from his brothers, but was pleasantly surprised to find that the men did not comment on it; although not serious, it sounded nasty. However, there was no reprimand or anger; merely the occasional glance at a more serious coughing fit or a subtle slow down of the pace while he caught his breath. He also suspected Aramis had been putting something in his tea without his knowledge, as his sore throat always felt soothed after a drink. This unspoken kindness touched D'artagnan deeply, but to thank the men was to admit his illness, which he was not ready to do.

"We've been blessed with the weather on this mission" Athos commented as the men rode back towards Paris. Often missions were marred by the conditions; heavy rain was often a severe issue on long rides, causing the horses to tire quickly and the men to become easily irritated. However, on this mission, the sun had shone every day and the temperature had been perfect- not so hot that the musketeers sweated into their leathers, but not too cold either.

"Don't say that, you'll jinx it" warned D'artagnan, a smile tugging at his mouth at the incredulous look on Aramis' face.

"You don't seriously believe that do you?" he asked in surprise. "Any weather conditions we face are due to the anger or mercy of the Lord, not the superstition of man".

"If you had spent as long toiling away in the fields as a youth as I did Aramis, you would realise that any comment on the lovely conditions will undoubtedly lead to rain" D'artagnan replied knowingly.

"I look forward to proving you wrong, mon ami" said Aramis, gesturing at the cloudless sky. "There is no rain on the horizon, whether you wish it or not."

THE MUSKETEERS

That night, the heavens opened.

Trying to light wet firewood was impossible, D'artagnan thought as he miserably struck the flint again, while shooting murderous glares at Athos and Aramis, who refused to look back at him. Instead, the other three musketeers busied themselves by creating a makeshift shelter and collecting supplies. They were only a day's ride from Paris, but the stretch of road they were on was deserted of any villages or farms, meaning that they had no choice but to face the elements.

D'artagnan soon gave up on the idea of a fire and went to join the other men in the shelter- or at least, he tried to.

"What is this?" he asked, gesturing towards the tiny shelter which was taken up by three large men.

"We couldn't find enough leaves for a large shelter, apologies" Porthos replied from his dry spot in the middle.

"But" the outraged Gascon began.

"Age before beauty, D'artagnan" Athos said, pulling the brim of his hat down over his eyes as he settled down.

"That argument does not make sense Athos- I should be outside if that were the case" Aramis protested as he settled down.

Neither Athos or Porthos made any comment, causing Aramis to let out an irritable sigh.

"Thank you D'artagnan, we owe you one" Aramis muttered as he closed his eyes.

D'artagnan stormed off to collect a blanket and rolled up a shirt to act as a pillow. He made as much noise as possible while settling down, but to no avail; the other musketeers were already snoring.

THE MUSKETEERS

After a sleepless night of tossing and turning in the rain, D'artagnan got up before the other men began stirring to make breakfast and get the horses ready for the last leg of their journey. He was not angry; the other men often treated him like this, and he knew it was the way it had to be for a protégée. If this had occurred before the whole Vadim incident, he would have been hurt and doubted his place with the Musketeers, but he now knew that he truly belonged with them and that they really did care about him. However, his night in the rain had not had a positive effect on his cold, he thought wryly as he doubled up coughing against the side of a tree. Luckily, he was far enough away that the other musketeers would not hear him; the last thing he wanted was for them to feel guilty and think that he was weak.

After feeding the horses and securing the provisions, D'artagnan set about making a simple breakfast which could be consumed as they rode. He then woke up the men, who looked rested and cheerful as they prepared themselves for the journey.

"Sleep well?" D'artagnan asked sarcastically as they mounted their horses.

"Not really, the sound of the rain was rather distracting" Athos replied. It would be impossible for anyone other than the three men to know that he was joking because of his expressionless face, but D'artagnan could detect a faint twinkle in his eye.

"What a shame" he replied with a chuckle, internally cursing as it sent off another round of the hacking cough. Once he had finished, he refused to look at the three men, choosing instead to wait for the inevitable questions. However, to his surprise, they did not come.

"I'm eager to get back to Paris today" Athos said. "If the rain continues as it is, the roads may become waterlogged and we may have to spend another night outside"

Aramis shuddered. "I'd really rather not do that- I am expected back in Paris by a certain lady, I dread to think how she will react if I am late."

"We'll have to pick up the pace then" Porthos replied. "Can you keep up whelp?" He laughed as D'artagnan kicked his horse into a canter in response. "I'll take that as a yes then"

Aramis shot his fellow Musketeers a grateful smile; they had just subtly increased their speed so they could get D'artagnan back to the Garrison quickly. His cough was worrying the medic; it was persistent and did not seem to be getting any better. The night out in the rain probably had not helped anything, but Aramis refused to dwell on that. It had been the same when he had been a recruit- they had to be treated roughly to become strong Musketeers. Besides, D'artagnan despised being mollycoddled, so a night out in the rain probably did him more good than it did harm.

Probably.


	3. Stubbornness

**Thank you for your reviews, follows and favourites- I hope you all enjoy the next chapter!**

 **Chapter 3- Stubbornness**

The rain did not let up as the four men continued along the increasingly waterlogged road towards Paris. The horses were having to walk through thick mud which slowed down their progress; it soon became clear that they would not reach Paris before nightfall. Morale lowered as the rain poured down, each man caught too caught up in his own thoughts to continue the banter which usually flowed so easily between them.

D'artagnan started feeling increasingly ill as the day wore on. It began with occasional chills and escalated to constant shifts between being either very hot or very cold. Next came the breathlessness- he had been having issues with breathing for a few days now, but he started to feel as if there was a band constricting his airway; the more heavily he breathed, the less air that seemed to reach his lungs. This meant that he took shallow breaths to try and minimise coughing and loosen the band around his lungs, but this led to moments of light-headedness that caused the world to spin. However, he knew that as long as the horses continued at the slow pace they were moving at at the moment, he could continue for as long as necessary. He was a musketeer protégé, a little rain would not deter him from the matter in hand.

THE MUSKETEERS

As the rain increased in volume, so did Aramis' concern for D'artagnan. The boy's posture was sagging and he often swayed on his horse, sometimes so alarmingly that the medic worried he would fall off. The fits of coughing increased in volume and intensity, to the point that Aramis wondered whether D'artagnan was actually breathing properly. He was caught up in a dilemma- should he call a break and examine D'artagnan, which would further slow them down and increase the likelihood that they would have to sleep outside again, or let him continue and hope he had enough sense to stop if he felt like he was going to fall off his horse? Looking over at Athos, who was also watching D'artagnan in concern, Aramis' mind was made up- he was clearly not over- reacting if Athos was also worried. It was time for a break.

"We're going to stop for a few minutes!" Aramis called to Porthos and D'artagnan, looking over to see a relieved expression cross Athos' face.

Aramis' concern only increased when D'artagnan did not react, staying in the saddle as if he had not heard the other men dismounting.

"D'artagnan" Athos called, striding over to D'artagnan's horse. "We're going to stop for a moment". "D'artagnan" he repeated when he again got no response. The swordsman walked around the front of the horse, a sharp "Aramis" springing from his lips when he saw the expression on the Gascon's face.

Aramis knew that Athos only ever used that commanding tone when something was wrong; grabbing his medicine bag, he rushed over to D'artagnan's horse, where Athos was trying to help the young man to the ground.

Athos was alarmed at the heat he felt radiating off D'artagnan's body as he helped him off his horse. The Gascon seemed barely aware of his surroundings, not reacting to the combined efforts of Athos and Aramis to get him off his horse.

"Porthos, go and light a fire and warm some water, I fear that D'artagnan's condition has worsened drastically" Aramis ordered, not seeing the flash of guilt and shock that crossed Athos' and Porthos' face at the revelation. Both men felt immensely guilty that they had forgotten about D'artagnan's bad cold and forced him to sleep outside the night before, worsening his condition to the point when he could no longer dismount unassisted.

"Porthos" Aramis repeated, "We can wallow in guilt later, but for now D'artagnan will benefit more from a fire and a shelter from the rain".

"I will build the shelter" Athos said, striding off towards the cover of the woodland and leaving Aramis supporting D'artagnan.

"Aramis" slurred D'artagnan, his eyes half opening to gaze into the concern- filled medic's face.

"Trust you D'artagnan- only you could stay on your horse and not complain while pneumonia set in" Aramis joked. "Let's get you over to the fire Porthos is building and warm you up a bit- I might have something in my bag for that cough as well"

"But we'll be late back" D'artagnan protested as they made their way over to the fire. "Treville will be displeased".

"Treville will be displeased that we allowed you to go on a mission while ill" Aramis countered. "Arriving a day later than expected will make little to no difference to his anger."

All four men blanched at his words- an irate Treville was something that any sane man would wish to avoid. The man cared deeply for each and every one of his men; he became very protective of them all if they were in danger. This is what separated him from other captains; his love for his men meant that he worked them hard in the hope that they would survive missions, and any losses he took as a personal failure. Therefore, if one of his most promising recruits was felled by a lack of care from his brothers, his rage would be unparralled.

However, it was not just Treville's wrath that made the men worried about D'artagnan's condition. The boy had quickly slipped into their seemingly impenetrable group, adding something that the never knew was missing before. His unfailing devotion and optimism brought with the smile of youth improved all three men in different ways- Athos was more sociable and did not drink alone as often, Aramis' eyes did not cloud over as often with thoughts of Savoy, and Porthos had been gratified with D'artagnan's loyalty towards him when slanders were made against him on the basis of his skin tone. The Gascon just fitted- there was no other way to describe it. He complemented the threesome in a way that no one had before, which was why if anything happened to him, each man would never forgive themselves.

THE MUSKETEERS

D'artagnan had fallen into an uneasy sleep underneath a hastily made shelter and a dim fire. Athos and Porthos were furious with the lack of care they could give the Gascon, but wet firewood and a lack of time had meant that there was little they could do. Aramis had managed to force half a cup of warm water mixed with Dog Fennel down him to soothe his throat, but he did not have the supplies necessary to do anything about his fever. All that could be done was to pile the blankets high and hope that he sweated it out. However, all three men knew that this was a poor remedy for what could be a life- threatening illness.


	4. The Dream

**I hope you like the new chapter- I'm quite pleased with how this one turned out!**

 **Chapter 4- The Dream**

All three men kept watch over D'artagnan as he slept. Porthos and Aramis busied themselves with cleaning weapons, collecting provisions and (in Aramis' case) creating medicines which would ease D'artagnan's discomfort. Athos, on the other hand, could have become a statue for all the movement he was making. He accepted the soup that Aramis held out to him but made no move to eat it, choosing instead to watch the Gascon with increasing intensity.

"Eat, Athos". Aramis instructed. "I know we have little appetite, but we will be no use to D'artagnan if we run ourselves into the ground too".

"This is my fault" Athos replied, tearing his eyes away from D'artagnan to look at Aramis. "My selfishness attitude meant that he had to sleep outside when he was already ill, and look at him now"

"We all made the decision to force D'artagnan to sleep outside" Aramis said calmly. "And we will make it up to him one thousand times when he has recovered, but for now, languishing in guilt and self-pity is not helpful."

Athos saw the wisdom in Aramis' words, and tried to join the others in the soup, but it tasted like ash. He could not shake off the feeling that D'artagnan's illness was his fault, and if anything happened to him, it would be on his conscience. Nobody could ever replace Thomas, but D'artagnan had certainly contributed towards filling a hole in his heart that he thought would remain empty forever. If anything were to happen-

No. Athos was a soldier, and soldiers did not allow personal feeling to get in the way of duty. Over the years, Athos had gained much experience of burying his emotions until a more convenient date. As Aramis had said, wallowing in self- pity was not going to help D'artagnan. With a new determination, Athos finished his meal, receiving an approving nod from Aramis.

"We'll take it in turns to keep watch tonight, but I want your promise that you'll wake me up if anything changes" Aramis said, the unspoken words of "if he gets worse" hanging in the air between them.

"I'll take first watch" Athos replied. "I doubt sleep would come particularly easily, so I may as well let you both get some rest since you look dead on your feet."

The two men nodded gratefully before lying down. Within moments, their breathing had evened out into sleep.

THE MUSKETEERS

He knew he was dreaming, and yet he could not escape. The rain poured down as D'artagnan held his father in his arms, watching helplessly as the blood drained from his body. D'artagnan was not a medic; he did not know what to do. His hand was placed over the wound, as if he could will it closed with the love flowing from his fingertips- but it was no use. The blood was spreading at an alarming rate- D'artagnan knew what was going to happen next. With trepidation, he met his father's eyes. The eyes that usually crinkled with an amused grin, or shone with pride when he looked at his only son. They say the eyes are the window to a man's soul, and D'artagnan had never doubted his father's love for him when he looked into them.

Those eyes were dying. The vibrant life that usually shone from them was fading, like the last streaks of daylight before the night falls. There was a hint of the old fire in his expression, however, as he breathed out one final word: "Athos" before a film descended over his eyes and his face grew lax.

The scene changed, and D'artagnan found himself storming into the Garrison, an all- encompassing anger burning its way into his soul as he charged at Athos. The swordsman had no time to react or defend himself as D'artagnan threw himself at him with an earth-shattering roar. He beat the man until he was stunned and his face bloody, transferring all the anger and hatred that had been building up into his punches. Athos kept on trying to speak, to justify his actions, but this just fuelled the hatred in D'artagnan's body.

"Stand up, and fight me like a man" D'artagnan hissed, getting to his feet and arming himself with his sword.

"I am not the man you seek" Athos replied. "Please, do not kill me over a mistake."

D'artagnan realised this would not be a fair fight; although a musketeer, Athos was badly injured and in no fit state to duel. He knew that an honourable man would not fight- but the beast inside that shouted for revenge was not honourable. With a roar, he charged at the man who had killed his father.

The duel lasted less than a minute; D'artagnan had the upper hand, and after a poorly judged feint from Athos, the Gascon embedded his sword into the man's heart. With a grim sense of satisfaction, he watched as the same film that had drawn over his father's eyes descended on his murderer's.

Those eyes…

The eyes that looked into D'artagnan's shone with the same honest fire that was so recognisable in his father's; and in that moment, D'artagnan knew. He did not know how, but he was filled with the knowledge that this man did not kill his father. The Gascon reeled back, his head echoing with the statement:

"Do not kill me over a mistake."

The beast within his soul vanished, and took with it the heat that had been burning through his body. In it's place was a deathly cold that radiated throughout his very bones, flowing through his veins and causing him to fall to the ground, shaking. He had just murdered an innocent man.

He had just murdered an innocent man.

A pained keening could be heard; it took D'artagnan a moment to realise the noise was coming from his own mouth. However, the realisation did not stop the noise; instead it intensified to a shout, a call for it all to be over.

"D'artagnan" a voice called; was this the sound of the Devil, coming to take him to Hell for his sins?

"D'artagnan" the voice repeated with more intensity.

"Don't make me go!" D'artagnan cried. "I'm not ready!"

"You're not going anywhere" the voice said calmly. "Just open your eyes for me"

D'artagnan's eyes shot open with a gasp; the first thing he saw were the eyes of the man he had just murdered.

"You-you're alive" D'artagnan stuttered.

"You were dreaming D'artagnan, it wasn't real" Athos replied, watching as a range of emotions flashed across the boy's face.

"No, I can't have been- it was so real" D'artagnan replied uncertainly, and then almost inaudibly "I killed you."

Athos controlled the flash of shock at D'artagnan's words, repeating "It wasn't real" a few times until D'artagnan calmed down.

A few moments passed until Athos deemed it safe to talk again; D'artagnan's breathing had almost returned to normal and he looked ready to fall asleep again.

"Where did you not want to go?" he asked.

"Hmm?" D'artagnan replied sleepily; he clearly did not realise he had called out.

"You started shouting out in your sleep and then said "Don't make me go"".

D'artagnan's reply was an honest one, and not one he would have given while fully awake. "Hell. I killed you because I thought you had killed my father, and I thought the voice was going to take me to Hell".

Athos shuffled forwards until he was sitting right by D'artagnan. Pushing his sweat- soaked fringe away from his eyes, he said

"I would never allow that to happen".

A slight smile formed on D'artagnan's face as his breathing evened out again. Although he knew the boy could no longer feel it, Athos' hand remained in D'artagnan's hair. The physical contact comforted both men, and D'artagnan slept peacefully through the remains of the night.


	5. Apparitions

**I got such a lovely response to the last chapter- thank you all! I hope you enjoy this one, I'm afraid I have left it on a bit of a cliff-hanger though, sorry! :D**

 **Chapter 5- Apparitions**

When Aramis awoke to see the sun rising above the treetops, he felt a mixture of anger and relief. He was angry because Athos had not woken him up to take his shift, but relieved because apparently Athos had not felt the need to wake him, so therefore D'artagnan's condition cannot have worsened. Also, the fact that he could see the sun meant the rain must have stopped.

Any remaining anger left his system when he stood up and observed Athos who had clearly fallen asleep watching D'artagnan with one hand tangled in his hair. D'artagnan had shifted closer to Athos in his sleep and was now curled up against him. However, Aramis became concerned about D'artagnan's condition as he came closer. The boy was drenched in sweat and deathly pale- when Aramis had expressed a wish for him to sweat out the illness, he hadn't meant to the extent to which the boy looked like he'd just taken a bath. A hand to the forehead confirmed his suspicions- D'artagnan's fever was through the roof.

"Athos, wake up" Aramis said sharply, causing Athos' eyes to snap open and for him to leap up, eyes scanning for danger.

"Where?" he asked urgently, a hand on his sword.

"Apologies, Athos, there is no danger- no danger to us, anyway" said Aramis from where he crouched next to D'artagnan.

Athos' eyes fell to the Gascon and he grew still, surprised by the deterioration in his condition.

"What aren't you tellin' us?" came a voice from behind them- Porthos was also awake. "What's wrong with the lad? He looks about as healthy as someone with a one- way ticket to the morgue".

All three men winced at Porthos' honesty- but it was true.

"I think he may have pneumonia" Aramis confessed "Probably brought about by a cold that was made worse by a nigh out in the rain."

Porthos and Athos ignored the slight tremble in Aramis' voice as they studied the Gascon in concern.

"Will he be able to make it back to Paris?" Athos asked, his tone conveying no emotion.

"That depends on the conditions and the time it will take us" Aramis replied, his tone grave.

" 'e can't spend another night out here, it'll finish 'im off" Porthos interjected, his honesty perhaps not the most effective cure for their worry.

However, their conversation had not gone unheard by the Gascon, who had stirred when Athos had moved.

"I can make it" he whispered, wincing as the air hissed past his raw throat. In truth, he did not know if he believed it; every inch of him hurt, consumed by a battle of fire and ice that raged through his body in what felt like an endless battle. He was both sweating and shaking, and his head felt foggy, like everything took twice as long to process. However, he was determined to try; he would much rather go down fighting to get home than stay on the forest floor for another night.

The three musketeers looked unconvinced; D'artagnan looked exhausted from just speaking, let alone travelling for a day on horseback. However, the steely determination was shining from his eyes, giving the three men hope that he could make it through sheer stubbornness.

"We'll give it a go" Aramis decided. "However, there are a few conditions; you will ride with me, and if you start to feel any worse, you tell us and we will stop. I don't want a repeat of yesterday- I think you took a few years off our lives, and I am not prepared for any grey hairs yet."

D'artagnan nodded meekly- the tone in Aramis' voice allowed for no argument.

THE MUSKETEERS

Getting D'artagnan up and onto Aramis' horse had been a lengthy and difficult process. Porthos supported him as he stood, but just the effort of standing led to a coughing fit that left him gasping for air. However, he refused to give up. It took both Porthos and Athos to lift him into the saddle, but once up, the Gascon sat in determined silence while the other men mounted. Although he would not admit it to the other men, D'artagnan was glad he wasn't riding alone- Aramis' presence behind him was a comforting one.

However, the horse's plodding movements were far from comfortable. Aramis was doing all he could to keep the journey smooth, but each step jarred his aching muscles and head. He knew that Aramis wouldn't mind, so D'artagnan relaxed against his back, closed his eyes and tried to nap through the hellish journey. However, a whispered "D'artagnan" in a painfully familiar caused is eyes to snap open again.

His father was standing by the roadside.

THE MUSKETEERS

Aramis smiled tightly as D'artagnan relaxed against him; hopefully the boy could get some well needed sleep to aid his recovery. The Gascon mumbled something, and Aramis leaned forwards.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Father" D'artagnan replied, staring at a spot by the roadside, a joyous expression on his face.

Aramis' heart ached for the boy- he knew that hallucinations may soon set in because of his high temperature, but it did not make it any easier.

"There's nobody there, D'artagnan" he whispered, watching as D'artagnan's expression became confused.

"He's there, you're going to ride past him!" he cried. "Please, let me go to him!"

Aramis held tightly to the boy as he tried to twist out of his grasp.

"What's going on?" Athos asked, drawing his horse in line with Aramis'.

D'artagnan answered his question. "Don't keep me from my father! Please, let me see him!" His expression grew anguished as they continued to ride past.

"Time for a break?" Porthos asked from in front, his expression sad as he twisted around to study the Gascon.

Aramis was torn. "We don't have time" he said, looking down at D'artagnan, who had fallen back against him, sweating and shaking while tears poured from his eyes. "And yet, I don't want to keep going any longer".

"I 'ave an idea" Porthos said. "I'll carry onto Paris and bring back any medicines you need, and you go as slowly as the lad wants. I should be able to meet you back somewhere on the road tomorrow".

Athos nodded. "We're unlikely to meet any danger between here and there, and D'artagnan does need to stop."

"I agree" Aramis replied. "Thank you Porthos- if you go to the Garrison doctor and ask what is necessary to treat pneumonia, I am certain he will be more able than me to give you the right medicines."

Porthos' expression grew soft as he drew his horse level with Aramis' and pushed the sweat soaked hair away from D'artagnan's face. "I'll see you soon, whelp" he said quietly. With a nod to the two other men, he kicked his horse into a gallop and was soon out of sight.

Aramis and Athos busied themselves with getting D'artagnan off his horse and building a fire to create some warmth. The Gascon was soon asleep again, exhausted by the journey and the apparition of his father. Aramis tucked a blanket around him, stiffing as Athos asked a simple question.

"How long?"

"I cannot say" Aramis replied sadly. "With no medicine or shelter, I would not give him longer than a day. With the appropriate care, he could make a full recovery."

"Porthos will ride hard" Athos said reassuringly. "he cares about the lad just as much as we do; he will be back in time."

Both men sat in contemplative silence, wishing that there was more they could do for D'artagnan. Each man would happily die for him, despite the short length of time they had known him; it was what defined the bond of brotherhood. It was becoming increasingly frustrating that all they could do was try to make him drink tea, and keep him warm, yet there was nothing else they could do.

"Can you hear that?" Athos asked suddenly, his expression becoming alert.

Aramis listened carefully; the sound of several sets of faint hoof beats could be heard, becoming increasingly louder. The musketeers looked at each other, a horrible suspicion building in their minds. Aramis confirmed it when he looked out of the cover of the trees onto the road and cursed.

"Bandits."


	6. Bandits

**Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger yesterday- that won't happen again today! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Chapter 6- Bandits**

Athos cursed, ran over to the fire and stamped it out in an attempt to mask their location.

"It's too late, Athos; they're heading straight for us" Aramis cried, drawing his main gauche and preparing to fight.

"D'artagnan" Athos called, grabbing the Gascon's sword.

"What'th'matter" D'artagnan muttered, squinting up at Athos.

"Bandits" said Athos grimly. "They'll be here in a moment- I'm sorry, but you'll have to arm yourself." He passed D'artagnan his sword, a hint of pride in his expression as D'artagnan grasped the sword and attempted to rise. A hand from Athos was all he needed, and he stumbled over to where Aramis was standing, sword in hand.

"I'm sorry" said Aramis. "We've done nothing but put you in harms' way since we left Paris."

"That's not true" D'artagnan said as Athos came to stand with them. "Anyway, I'd rather fall in battle with my brothers than be felled by some illness- I have a reputation to uphold." A hint of his old self could be seen in the cheeky grin he sent in Aramis' direction.

"No one will be falling today" Athos said curtly. "We have fought and beaten bandits hundreds of times, today will be no different." He did not mention that those times had been with four healthy men, not two healthy men and one on the brink of collapse.

D'artagnan ignored him. "Gentlemen- as always, it is a privilege to fight by your side."

"That sounds suspiciously like a goodbye; this illness seems to be making you unduly pessimistic" Aramis said. "As Athos said, it isn't like we haven't done this hundreds of times- we'll be fine."

"What have I said about saying things like that? You'll jinx it" grinned D'artagnan as the bandits burst through the trees and the fight began.

THE MUSKETEERS

The adrenalin that flowed through D'artagnan's veins gave him the strength to dispatch two bandits with ease. The men were not skilled, and clearly had bitten off more than they could chew, D'artagnan thought cockily as he attacked the third man. However, he was beginning to tire, his movements becoming more sluggish and slow as he switched to the defence. The bandit could tell he was getting the upper hand; his smile widened as each attack came closer to meeting its mark.

D'artagnan knew he just had to hold on until Athos or Aramis finished their fight; he did not know exactly how many bandits there were, but it could not have been more than a dozen. However, he knew he did not have long left. The world was beginning to spin and rock beneath his feet, and D'artagnan knew he had to finish the fight. He went for a reckless attack that would have left Athos mortified had he seen it, leaving the whole left hand side of his body unprotected. The bandit was no musketeer, but even he could not miss such an opportunity.

THE MUSKETEERS

Aramis finished off his final opponent with a dramatic flourish of his sword, a smirk on his face. There had been no need for worry- the men were far from musketeer standard. He turned to Athos, who had just knocked out the last bandit with the handle of his pistol. However, someone was missing.

"Where's D'artagnan?" he asked.

"Listen" Athos said; the sound of clashing swords could be heard on the other side of the clearing. The two musketeers rushed over; they knew that D'artagnan would be tiring. They arrived at the scene just in time to see D'artagnan embed his sword into the gut of the bandit he was fighting.

"You're giving Athos a run for his money, taking out 3 bandits while so ill" Aramis chuckled, clapping D'artagnan on the back.

D'artagnan laughed as he turned to face Athos and Aramis, noting happily that other than a small cut on Aramis' forearm and a bruise forming on Athos' face they appeared unharmed. He was confused at the look on their faces though; they were staring at him in shock.

"What's the matter?" he asked. True, he was feeling worse with each second that he stood, and probably didn't look much better, but he didn't understand why they looked so horrified. They seemed to be gazing at his side; D'artagnan looked down and a small "Oh" fell from his mouth.

THE MUSKETEERS

Athos knew what would happen as D'artagnan looked down; he moved forward to take the boy's weight as his legs went from under him. The patch of red on his shirt was spreading at an alarming rate, and all three men knew that in his weakened condition, D'artagnan was in no state to lose a lot of blood.

Aramis sprang into action; a moment of slight panic was quelled and all emotions left his body. Leaving Athos to hold D'artagnan, he rushed to his bag to collect water, wine, bandages and a needle and thread. Examining the wound, he realised in relief that it was clean, meaning that it will have missed all vital organs.

D'artagnan stirred just as Aramis uncorked the bottle of wine to sterilise the wound.

"Hold him, Athos- he will probably struggle" Aramis warned as he poured the alcohol onto the wound. D'artagnan's eyes bulged and he fought against Athos' strong hold.

"Almost there, D'artagnan" Aramis soothed and he finished cleaning the wound.

"Please, stop" D'artagnan whispered. "I didn't mean to do it, I thought he'd murdered my father."

Athos stiffened and Aramis shot him a curious look, but now was not the time to ask; instead, he stitched up the wound, trying to block out D'artagnan's pained whimpers and his repeated calls of "I'm sorry".

Athos leaned forwards while Aramis was stitching. "I'm here, D'artagnan, you're still with us- you're not in Hell, and you did not murder me" he whispered for D'artagnan's ears only. He did not know if the boy could hear him, but he seemed to calm while Aramis finished his ministrations.

"He should be alright, as long as it doesn't get infected" sighed Aramis, looking down at D'artagnan's unconscious body. "We will have to keep him warm and check the wound often- he is in no fit state to travel any further."

"We will stay here then, and wait for Porthos" Athos decided.

"Can you get some blankets and build up a fire?" Aramis asked. "I'll make some broth or something, we should wake him up every few hours and make him eat- it will help him build his strength up."

Athos nodded once, stress evident on his face. He walked stiffly away, and Aramis watched him go. He sighed as he turned to face the unconscious Gascon.

"Please hurry, Porthos" he whispered. "I fear that if you do not, we will lose not one, but two brothers."


	7. The Confession

**I am SO sorry for not updating sooner! I have exams and other deadlines coming up, so those are obviously my priority at the moment. Please bear with me if there are a few days between chapters- there is nothing that irritates me more than a half finished story, so I assure you I will finish it, it just means that there probably won't be a chapter a day. Thank you for your patience!**

 **Chapter 7- The Confession**

The rest of the day passed fairly smoothly, with D'artagnan getting some well- needed rest and Aramis and Athos making the space and comfortable and rain-proof as possible, lest the bad conditions return. However much he wanted D'artagnan to get as much rest as possible, Aramis knew that he must wake him at regular intervals to keep him hydrated.

"I'm going to have to wake him" Aramis announced regretfully. Athos looked up from where he had been staring into the fire, a slight frown on his face.

"Why?" he asked. "Surely we should let him sleep, he hasn't had this much rest since…" he trailed off, both men's minds going back to the night which they all wished to forget.

"He needs to be able to fight this illness and allow the wound to heal" Aramis said patiently. "For that to happen, he must be strong, and I doubt that starvation and dehydration will help."

Athos' eyes narrowed fractionally as he picked up on the slightly patronising tone in Aramis' tone, but he did not argue. Tensions were high, and yet Athos knew he did not want to take out his frustrations on Aramis. The medic knew what was best for the Gascon and Athos didn't, it was as simple as that. Therefore, Athos bit back his response and moved aside so Aramis could reach D'artagnan with a flask of water and some broth.

"D'artagnan?" he said softly. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

D'artagnan stirred and his eyelids fluttered, but did not open. A frown appeared on his face and he groaned as the various discomforts made themselves known.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but you need to eat or drink something" Aramis said, watching worriedly as D'artagnan forced his eyes to open.

"Have I overslept again?" he asked agitatedly, trying to sit up, only to fall back with a gasp of pain.

"Stay still" Aramis warned. "You don't want to ruin my beautiful needlework do you?" D'artagnan seemed to not hear him.

"Treville will kill me if I'm late again" he said, once again trying to rise, only to be held down by Aramis.

"You're not going to be late" he soothed. "Treville has given you the day off; you can stay here for now. Now, have a drink of this for me."

D'artagnan had a few mouthfuls of the water while Aramis supported his head, but soon turned away, his face pale.

"Athos?" he asked in a panicked tone. "Where is he?"

"I'm here, D'artagnan" Athos said, rising from his place by the fire and coming to sit by the Gascon.

D'artagnan looked relieved, accepting a spoonful of broth from Aramis before making a face and turning away.

"Come on" joked Aramis. "My cooking isn't that bad!"

"S'not that" D'artagnan said as his face turned slightly green. "I don't think I can manage any more"

Aramis' expression grew sad. "It's alright, we'll try again later" he said with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

As D'artagnan's eyes slipped closed again, Aramis and Athos stood so they could talk and not disturb him. However, a small "Please don't leave" had them sitting back down again with a smile, Athos combing the hair back from D'artagnan's face.

"Never"

THE MUSKETEERS

Porthos trotted into the garrison and hopped off his horse. He was just rushing towards to infirmary when a sharp "Porthos" pulled him short. He looked up to see Treville watching him closely.

"My office" he said, before turning on his heel and walking into his room.

Porthos followed with some trepidation, but mostly impatience- he hoped this would not take long. He had ridden as if the devil was on his tail, his only thoughts of how frail D'artagnan had looked when he had said his goodbyes. The last thing he wanted now was a lecture from the captain- he would have nothing to say that Porthos had not said to himself thousands of times on the ride back to Paris.

Porthos strode into the office and pulled the door closed behind him, turning to see Treville waiting.

"Where are the others?" Treville asked shortly his expression neutral. Porthos was suddenly reminded of Athos; the ability to push aside all emotions was clearly one he had learned from the Captain. It was a skill that Porthos admired- he wore his heart on his sleeve, and at this moment, he could tell that his emotions were written all over his face.

"We had a bit of a situation" he began. Treville nodded at him to continue as he hesitated, wondering how to tell the captain of their mistake. He quickly decided that the plain truth was the best way to go; Treville would hopefully be lenient until D'artagnan was home and safe.

"D'artagnan had not been feeling well for a few days, but we ignored it because we knew it was what he wanted. However, on the road back to Paris, it began to rain and there was nowhere for us to stop overnight. The shelter we built was not big enough for all of us, so we made D'artagnan sleep outside" Porthos admitted. He glanced up at the captain, only to wish that he had not- a look of steely anger had descended over Treville's face.

"Continue" he said shortly.

"The lad started feeling worse after that night. We hoped we could return to Paris the same day, but the waterlogged roads meant that we had to travel slowly, with frequent stops when the hallucinations began. We had no medicines suitable to treat pneumonia, so I made the decision to ride back alone, collect some medication and ride back to meet them somewhere on the road." Porthos looked back at the captain, the guilt increasing tenfold when he saw the Treville's expression.

"Hallucinations? Pneumonia?" Treville asked incredulously. "How on Earth did you not notice that D'artagnan was sickening, and why did you allow him to sleep outside when there was clearly something wrong with him?"

"I"- Porthos began, before Treville cut him off.

"I don't want to hear it, Porthos" he said. "If I lose one of my most promising recruits because of your lack of care, there will be serious repercussions. I know that recruits are often treated harshly to prepare them for the life of the Musketeers, but to leave an ill man out in the rain on his first mission back after an injury is frankly disgusting. Go to the infirmary- if the physician is not busy, take him with you."

Treville stood and stormed towards the door, pausing before he opened it. "I see far more than anyone realises. D'artagnan has worked hard to fit in around here, harder than he lets on. I think you all have to remember that sometimes." With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Porthos frowned at the closed door; what had Treville meant by that? D'artagnan had seeminglessly merged into their group from his perspective. Indeed, it was hard to remember a time when the Gascon's cheeky grin and banter had not been a part of their group. However, Treville had made it sound like the lad had found it difficult to fit in with the Musketeers.

"I'll ask you about that when you're better" Porthos whispered, before striding out of the door to find the physician.

An hour later, Porthos and the doctor rode out of the garrison gates. Treville watched them go from the balcony.

"They're coming D'artagnan" he muttered. "I don't want to lose any more; hold on."


	8. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**I thought a bit about whether D'artagnan should know about Milady in this chapter- technically he found out in Episode 3 of series 1, and this story follows up from Episode 2, so he probably shouldn't, but for the nice Athos/D'artagnan moment I had planned he needed to! Just to warn you, there is quite the cliffhanger at the end of this chapter- please don't kill me! :D**

Chapter 8- Between a Rock and a Hard Place

D'artagnan awoke in stages; first he felt an ache in his side which escalated to a sharp burn. Next came the bone- deep cold which wracked his body with shivers. He could not tell if he was awake or still dreaming; voice could be heard in the distance. He latched onto them, hoping that they could ground him and give him some semblance of reason.

"He's getting worse" a voice said- it took D'artagnan's sleep and fever ridden mind a moment to work out that it was Aramis. "I'm not sure whether I can preserve his life for much longer."

"No." a firm voice that D'artagnan would know anywhere chimed in. "We cannot give up on him; Porthos will be back soon with the supplies."

"I'm not giving up on him, Athos" sighed Aramis. "I think he is the one that is giving up."

D'artagnan tried to open his eyes, to protest that he was fighting, but he could not. He felt as if he were floating on a cloud, and with each passing second he was being carried further away from his friends. He could not control his direction, only watch helplessly as the darkness enveloped him and he was pulled away.

THE MUSKETEERS

A sombre silence had descended on the camp; both Athos and Aramis felt immensely guilty as there was little they could do for D'artagnan. Aramis was coping better than Athos, as he was able to make herbal remedies that had little effect because of the severity of D'artagnan's condition, but they made the medic feel as though he was serving a purpose. In contrast, Athos had withdrawn into himself and sat by the fire, gazing into its depths as if he hoped to lose himself in them. The silence was broken only by D'artagnan's increasingly haggard and wheezing breaths.

"D'artagnan" called Aramis, holding yet another remedy that he hoped would ease the Gascon's breathing. However, to his concern, D'artagnan did not stir.

"D'artagnan" he called again; panic must have been evident in his tone if the look on Athos' face was anything to go by.

"What's wrong?" Athos asked sharply, striding over to where D'artagnan lay.

"He won't wake up" Aramis replied sadly. "He's fading."

"No. No" Athos repeated. "He cannot- you are a medic, do something!"

"Do you not think I would have already if I could?" Aramis hissed. "Do you not think that I feel just as guilty and helpless as you right now? He's our brother and we left him out in the rain like a dog. For as long as I live, I will never forgive myself if he dies. Therefore, if it were in my capacity to relieve his pain and bring him back to us, I would have." Aramis' voice broke as he gazed down at D'artagnan's shivering form. He slowly took the crucifix given to him by the Queen from around his neck and placed it around D'artagnan's.

"I cannot help him; I must place my faith in those who can" he said sadly before walking away towards the road.

Athos watched him go sadly. He knew that if D'artagnan died, the friendship between the three men would be fractured forever. The guilt would consume them; Porthos would blame himself for not riding faster, Aramis would blame himself for not being able to save D'artagnan, and he would blame himself for not noticing how ill D'artagnan was and allowing him to sleep outside. Although they would never admit it, each man would also blame the others for their actions. There would be a void in the group that would never be filled again.

"I cannot allow you to do this, D'artagnan" Athos whispered to the still form of his brother. "You have always been so stubborn and determined, you cannot give up now." He paused, making sure Aramis was well out of earshot before continuing. "I knew from the moment you came charging into the Garrison that your potential was huge, but I did not realise just how much of an impact you would have on all of us. You've redeemed me, D'artagnan. I thought I was not allowed to be happy again after my wife killed Thomas, but you have filled a hole in my life that I thought would remain empty for the rest of my life. If you leave us, that hole will be ripped open again. I know you cannot hear me- that is the only reason I am being so uncharacteristically pleasant- but please, for all of us, fight this."

The swordsman hurriedly straightened up and wiped his eyes as he heard Aramis returning. By the time the medic sat down by the two men, Athos' impassive mask was fixed back in place. He raised an eyebrow at the ashamed expression on Aramis' face.

"I am sorry, mon ami" sighed Aramis. "I should not have taken my frustrations out on you; I know that this is not your fault. I had merely reached the end of my tether and had to take it out on somebody. Please accept my apologies."

"Of course" Athos replied. "Believe it or not, I understand that emotion can sometimes cloud judgement in those with lesser control of their feelings."

Aramis smiled. "I guess I need to work on that- however, unlike a certain Gascon, I do not wear my heart entirely on my sleeve."

Silence reined again as the two men continued their vigil over their brother.

THE MUSKETEERS

D'artagnan was standing in the middle of a tunnel. A bright, white light shone from one end; he could feel the warmth radiating through his frozen and aching body. The other end of the tunnel was cold and dark, and filled D'artagnan with a sense of foreboding. The choice should have been easy as to which way to go, and yet D'artagnan was torn; his body wanted him to go towards the light, but something was pulling him back. However, his body was winning, and he began to take slow, hesitant steps towards the light. The warmth increased, and he felt a great sense of comfort, as if he were going home. That feeling was reinforced as D'artagnan looked up and the breath was knocked out of his lungs.

His mother and father were standing not ten feet away, beaming.

"Mother?" D'artagnan gasped. "Father?"

"You've been so brave" his mother whispered. "It's time for you to come back to us." She reached out a hand towards D'artagnan, and he stepped forwards to take it.

"D'artagnan" whispered another voice. D'artagnan did not recognise the voice, but he suddenly felt a great sense of comfort and belonging. The voice continued to speak, but D'artagnan could only hear part of what was being said.

"You cannot give up now… You have redeemed me… for all of us, fight this"

While listening to the voice, D'artagnan's hand had continued to reach towards his mother. Their fingers were now inches apart- he knew that if he took her hand, the suffering would be over. But that voice… it seemed to be calling him back, but to where? D'artagnan did not want to leave his parents and walk to the cold, dark end of the tunnel.

"D'artagnan" said his mother gently. "It's time"

"Please, fight this" whispered the other voice.

THE MUSKETEERS

Aramis started awake with a curse; he had not meant to fall asleep. The sun had risen, meaning that he had left D'artagnan alone for several hours at least; Athos had also passed out beside him. Cursing, he scrambled over to D'artagnan's side.

One look told him all he needed to know.


	9. Reunion

**Chapter 9- Reunion**

 **I apologise again for yesterday's cliffhanger- perhaps it was a bit harsh ;) luckily for you, there is no cliffie at the end of this chapter- I hope you enjoy it! Thank you as always for your lovely reviews, follows and favourites; they really do inspire me to find time to write**

The further they travelled from Paris, the more Porthos' worry heightened for his brothers. If they had journeyed at even a slow pace towards Paris, he should have met them by now. The pace that he and the doctor were travelling at meant that they were not far away from where Porthos left the three men, meaning that they could not have travelled far. Porthos tried not to think of what had caused their slow pace, choosing instead to focus on the road ahead. If the men had stopped, it would be likely that they would be in the cover of the trees and may miss Porthos' passing; it would be just his luck if he rode past them.

Porthos narrowed his eyes; it looked like a figure was standing by the roadside. As they drew closer, he realised in relief that it was Aramis. However, a closer inspection made his heart clench; the man was oblivious to their approach and was in deep prayer.

"Aramis" he called, pulling his horse to a stop and jumping off. Aramis started and turned around, a broad smile on his face. However, Porthos couldn't help but notice the tear tracks evident on his cheeks.

"D'artagnan…" he said, unable to finish his sentence.

Aramis smiled tiredly again. "See for yourself."

Hope bloomed in Porthos' chest as he followed Aramis into the cover of the trees. The first thing he noticed was the large, rainproof shelter that had been built next to a roaring fire; it was clear that the men had spent time making the area as comfortable as possible for the Gascon. Rounding the side of the shelter, Porthos was greeted with the sight of Athos helping D'artagnan drink some water. Porthos' eyes locked on D'artagnan's, watching as a smile widened across the Gascon's face.

"You're back" he rasped, causing Athos to turn around.

"You look like death, lad" Porthos laughed in relief; he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his chest.

"You're not looking too brilliant yourself, what's your excuse?" chuckled D'artagnan, a coughing fit beginning as the breath caught in his throat. Porthos winced in sympathy as D'artagnan curled in on himself, only to fall back with a gasp of pain.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked. "Other than that" he added at the incredulous look on Athos' face.

"Bandits" replied Athos grimly. "He killed three, but the fourth managed to cut a slice out of his side. It wouldn't usually be life threatening, but hasn't really aided his recovery."

Porthos cursed. "I should have been here" he said angrily. "I could have protected him."

"S'not your fault" breathed D'artagnan before his eyelids fluttered closed.

"He's right" said Aramis from behind him. "By some miracle, his fever broke last night, so he should be alright, but the medicines you have brought will ease his discomfort. I see Treville allowed you to bring the physician?"

"Yeah" replied Porthos. "He's not best pleased with us, our Captain."

"I am not surprised" sighed Athos. "Any punishment we receive will be with a just reason. Luckily, the worst consequence of our actions is unlikely to occur."

All three men gazed down at the sleeping Gascon in a moment of silent contemplation that was broken by the arrival of the physician.

"If you could all please leave" he ordered. "I will check over the patient and tell you when he will be able to travel."

THE MUSKETEERS

The physician stayed in the shelter with D'artagnan for well over an hour. The three musketeers found it increasingly difficult to stay outside as the sounds of pain and frequent coughing fits reached them. Finally, after everything had been quiet for a while, Athos stood up and strode over to the shelter just as the physician emerged.

"Well?" Athos asked shortly.

"The fever had indeed broken, but he is still very unwell. There was a risk of infection in the wound, so I have cleaned and re-bandaged it- I must congratulate you monsieur on your excellent needlework" he said to Aramis, who nodded with a smile.

"When can he travel?" asked Porthos impatiently.

"Provided he rides with somebody and there are frequent stops, you can leave tomorrow. I would be reluctant to leave him out here for much longer; the cold air and probability of rain may lead to his condition deteriorating again. I have given him various medications to ease his symptoms and will instruct Aramis as to how and when they should be administered, but I will have to take my leave soon after. Unfortunately, I have patients back in Paris who also require my attention."

"Of course" replied Aramis. "We understand, and appreciate your visit more than we can express."

The physician smiled. "It looks to me that the lad found something to live for and clung onto it with everything he could. I have never seen a patient with a severe wound and a life- threatening illness survive without medical intervention before- it is nothing short of a miracle."

"He's a stubborn one, our D'artagnan" said Porthos fondly. "Once he's decided he wants something, he will not give up until he has it."

"Then he will make a fine musketeer" the physician replied. "I have worked in the Garrison for a long time, and I know an excellent recruit when I see one- although I have never seen him fight, I know that he is one of the best. It is the character of a man that defines his potential, not his skill with a sword."

All three men nodded. It was becoming clearer by the day that D'artagnan had found his true calling in the Musketeers.


	10. Reprimands

**So… I'm finally back another chapter of this fic. I was planning on just leaving it, as I didn't think anyone would be interested in reading it after a year, but a few suggestions from the lovely Tidia and a re- read of the story awakened my Muse. I hope you enjoy this instalment- there will be one more after this!**

That night, the four men caught up on some well needed sleep. D'artagnan had passed out almost as soon as the physician had left and appeared to be sleeping soundly, and the roads were quiet and peaceful, so the three musketeers decided to risk getting a full night's sleep. Consequently, they woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the short ride back to Paris.

D'artagnan awoke with the fire still in his side and a band around his chest, but after one of the physician's concoctions he found himself feeling better than he had in days. Aramis insisted that he rode with the Gascon, not yet trusting him to not fall off his horse and add a few broken ribs to his misfortune. D'artagnan accepted with no complaints, a sign that although the lad was on the road to recovery, he was not back to his stubborn self.

The journey back to Paris took most of the day, the three men ensuring that they stopped often to keep D'artagnan as comfortable as possible. For his part, D'artagnan slept against Aramis' back for most of the journey, only awakening when his various pains made themselves known. Without even needing to say anything to Aramis, the medic would stop them for a few minutes, administer some pain medication, and ensure the Gascon was feeling up to continuing before they set off again.

THE MUSKETEERS

Athos had never been happier to ride into Paris in his life. Although D'artagnan was looking better than he had in a while, the Gascon was clearly still in a lot of discomfort and Athos feared a relapse if they had to stay outside for another night.

However, the men rode into the Garrison just as the Sun was setting- it seemed that time had indeed been on their side that day. The Garrison courtyard was unusually quiet; the other Musketeers must be on a royal duty, thought Athos with relief. He knew that D'artagnan hated attention, especially if it drew attention to his "weakness" as the Gascon would put it.

Athos smoothly dismounted his horse and walked over to help Aramis get D'artagnan back on the ground.

"I can do it m'self" D'artagnan slurred, swaying slightly in the saddle.

"Of course." Athos said dryly. "I am certain that if Aramis was not holding you up, you would have fallen off this horse hours ago, but feel free to try if you think it will aid your reputation."

D'artagnan's face conveyed his embarrassment and Aramis shot Athos a glare before moving closer to the Gascon.

"I think what Athos was _trying_ to say is that there are no Musketeers in the yard, and you do not have to hide your pain from your brothers; we are here to help you" he whispered.

D'artagnan's face softened and he accepted Athos' outstretched arm, swaying slightly as his feet touched the ground. Athos steadied him, and the three men made their way towards the infirmary. Porthos went to follow, but was pulled up by the sound of his name being called. He looked up towards the balcony to see Treville watching, his face a picture of concern and disappointment.

"As soon as D'artagnan is settled in the infirmary I want you all up in my office." was all the Captain said before he turned and slammed the door.

Porthos swallowed. They were in trouble.

THE MUSKETEERS

Treville sat at his desk, his mind going in circles as to what to do with those three men. Part of him wanted to yell at them, to put them on Garrison duty for a month, to dole out the worst punishment he could think of; and yet, he knew from watching the men that they would have berated themselves far more than he ever could.

The bond between the four men was extraordinary. From his balcony, the captain often watched his men without their knowledge; it proved useful for getting to know the recruits' true characters. Treville had found in his experience that it wasn't those who were already good with a sword who made the best musketeers, but those who were willing to work and to put their heart and their soul into the task at hand.

D'artagnan was such a recruit. Treville had never had a moment to doubt the lad's determination and willingness to complete any task set to him by the other men, no matter how menial. Treville had noticed that D'artagnan especially looked up to- no, almost worshipped- Athos. The Comte was certainly an interesting role model; his heart was in the right place, and his swordsmanship was undoubtedly the best in the regiment, but Athos was rather rough around the edges. His drinking and dark past meant that the former Comte was unapproachable and surly in his mannerisms, which is why Treville was surprised at how quickly D'artagnan gravitated towards him. However, despite his personality, D'artagnan had blossomed under his tutelage, taking every critique as a personal blow and striving to correct it.

 _*Flashback*_

 _Treville sighed. It had been a long day of paperwork and foreign policy, the side of being a captain that he despised and had not thought about when he took up the role. He itched to be back in the field with his brothers, not holed up in his office writing up depressing files of deceased musketeers._

 _The Captain stood up and stretched. What he needed was a training session; perhaps knocking the seven bells out of a few training dummies would release some of his stress. He grabbed his main gauche and headed out of his dreaded office towards the part of the Garrison he actually liked._

 _Treville was surprised to hear the sound of training down in the yard; it was late, so he expected all of his men to either be out enjoying themselves on the streets or asleep. Stepping out and looking over the balcony, the Captain was unsurprised to see D'artagnan repeating the same attack that the captain had seen him practicing with Athos for the last few days. The attack was difficult, and D'artagnan was almost there; but he often left his left side wide open while thrusting, and Treville knew Athos would not stand for it. The swordsman had picked up on this, and quickly became frustrated when D'artagnan seemed unable to fix his error. However, Treville knew this was a common mistake that took time to correct._

 _Frustration was clear on D'artagnan's face as he went for the attack again, protecting his left side but overbalancing as he withdrew from the thrust. Muttering angrily under his breath, the Gascon threw his sword to the ground and began pacing in tight, angry circles. Treville did not know how long he had been practicing, but if the sweat coating his brow was anything to go by, it had been a while._

" _D'artagnan" called the Captain, descending the stairs to where the Gascon stood._

" _Captain" D'artagnan replied, standing to attention with a slightly ashamed look on his face, aware that Treville had probably just seen his outburst. However, the Captain did not comment._

" _I could do with some exercise, and you look like you could benefit from some real combat" Treville said, the only portrayal of the amusement he was feeling at D'artagnan's dumbfounded expression in the depths of his eyes._

" _Uh…that's okay Captain, I wouldn't want to put you out of your way…" D'artagnan trailed off as the Captain raised his main gauche._

" _Nonsense, I like to see my recruits get as much one to one combat training as possible" Treville replied._

 _The two men sparred for a few minutes, D'artagnan being more cautious and aware of technique than he would have been fighting with his friends. This was his Captain, and any slip up on his part that led to an injury for either of them would not look good for his promotion chances. However, a chance to beat the Captain would certainly impress him…._

 _D'artagnan soon saw an opportunity to attempt the manoeuvre he had been practicing all day. He went in for the thrust, but again left his left side exposed. Treville tapped him with his sword as he lunged past. However, his response was very different than Athos' would have been._

" _Your left arm swings by your side as you lunge" Treville stated calmly. "A swordsman's body is like a musician's instrument; you must utilise every part of it to get the best result. This time, try swinging your left arm up to block my strike and twist your body away from me. In battle, you would be less likely to sustain an injury, and if by chance you did, it would be on your arm and not your side, so you would be able to keep fighting."_

 _The pair sparred again, and again, with D'artagnan's manoeuvre improving each time. However, it was not until his fifth attempt that he was able to twist out of the way of Treville's strike and disarm him simultaneously._

" _Excellent" Treville said, allowing a hint of pride to seep into his tone. D'artagnan positively beamed at the praise, nodded at the Captain and excused himself for the night. As he walked away, his Captain's call stopped him short._

" _I know finding your place here has been difficult- going from being a farm boy to a soldier is not an easy transition. Believe it or not, although Athos is a hard tutor, he is pushing you because he knows you have a lot of potential. Remember that."_

 _D'artagnan's back stiffened. "Thank you, Captain" he said, without turning, and continued to walk away._

 _THE MUSKETEERS_

 _The next day, Treville watched as D'artagnan disarmed Athos for the first time in their sparring match. The whole Garrison went silent as Athos' blade clattered to the floor, and for a moment, a look of shock and pride flittered over the former Comte's face. Although it was gone as soon as it appeared, Treville knew from the look on D'artagnan's face that he had seen it. Athos nodded curtly, and a brief half smile was flashed in his protégé's direction._

 _*End flashback*_

Treville was roused from his memories by a knock on the door.

"Enter" he called, arranging his expression into a stern one as Athos, Aramis and Porthos filed into the room and stood in front of his desk.

"Explain yourselves" the Captain said shortly.

"Porthos has already reported what happened" Aramis said. Clearly, it was the wrong thing to say.

"Yes, Porthos has told me _what_ happened." Treville snapped. "What he has failed to tell me is _why_ you would leave an ill man out in the cold and rain. I am at a loss to explain it, when the bond you men share is so strong. What were you thinking?"

"We were not thinking" Aramis said simply. "We allowed D'artagnan to reach this condition, and for that we are more sorry than we can say. I think I can speak for all of us when I say that any punishment you give will be more than fair, and be assured that we have learned our lesson and would never let anything of the type happen again."

"I do believe you" said Treville, his tone softening fractionally. "However, the fact still remains that one of my most promising recruits almost died because of your lack of care. You will all serve a month of Garrison duty as punishment, and be aware that the other Musketeers will be informed of what has happened."

All three men nodded, Aramis and Porthos trying to conceal grins; Garrison duty meant they could keep an eye on their Gascon while he recovered.

"Porthos, Aramis, will you give Athos and I a moment please?" Treville asked. Athos' unreadable eyes flickered to his own, and silence prevailed after the door had closed behind Aramis and Porthos.

"While we are on the topic of D'artagnan, I must give you a piece of advice" Treville said, standing up and looking out of the window with his back to Athos.

"I understand that how you train your protégé is your own business, and that those methods are certainly effective, but I would advise that you remember just how much D'artagnan looks up to you occasionally. The boy is undoubtedly a hard worker, and I am sure that he would easily run himself into the ground if you told him to. I think sometimes you would do well to remember that the boy has recently lost his father, and is still trying to find his place with the Musketeers; a kind word occasionally can cause a world of a difference to a recruit's abilities."

Silence filled the air after Treville's statement. With some trepidation, the captain turned to see an unguarded, raw look of shock written all over his lieutenants face.

"I never realised that he did not feel at home with us" Athos replied. "He always seems so happy."

"Seeming happy and truly being happy are not always the same thing" Treville reminded Athos gently. "Now, I have work to do, so you are dismissed."

Without another word, Athos turned and strode out of the room. He had always trusted the Captain's judgement; he would not have spoken up without good reason.

 **I hope you enjoyed the chapter! As always, please review if you did!**


	11. Epilogue

**Chapter 11- Epilogue**

The next few weeks passed in relative ease for the Musketeers. D'artagnan continued to get his strength back, although he annoyed Aramis constantly with his persistent attempts to push his weakened body past its capabilities. One such time, Athos and Aramis had gone to visit D'artagnan to find him sprawled in an embarrassed heap on the floor, unable to get up and with his main gauche lying next to him. When asked what had happened and hauled back to bed, he had admitted sheepishly that he had been trying to practice some moves, afraid that he would have become rusty without practice.

Aramis tutted as he checked his healing wound had not been torn open and that his fever had not returned. Although slightly warmer than before, it appeared the Gascon had done no lasting damage.

"All the same" Aramis sighed, "I'm taking your sword away for a while. It's for your own good" he hastily added as D'artagnan opened his mouth to argue.

Remembering Treville's words, Athos waited until Aramis had left the room before saying:

"Raw talent cannot be forgotten, no matter how long you go without training."

Athos would later find himself in the tavern, staring into the abyss of his bottle and wondering how a few simple words could provoke the Gascon to positively light up and swell with happiness.

THE MUSKETEERS

A few days later, Aramis finally gave in to D'artagnan's persistent nagging to let him out into the yard. The three men forced the Gascon to sit at their usual table, D'artagnan all too willing to comply and enjoy the Sun on his face while he watched the three men train.

Soon, however, D'artagnan's hands were itching to hold his sword again.

"Please?" was all he needed to say to Athos when he returned to the table, knowing that his tutor was more likely to say yes than the overly protective medic.

"Only if you're feeling up to it" Athos replied stonily. "I am trusting you to make the right call here, any consequences are on your head."

D'artagnan nodded happily and leapt to his feet to retrieve his sword.

"If he ruins any of that fine needlework…" Aramis said, running his hands through his sweat soaked hair. "I'm not sure this is the best idea."

"If he says feeling up to it, he'll be fine" Athos replied firmly.

"This is D'artagnan we're talking about!" Aramis hissed. "The lad would hide a shot to the heart if he thought it would stop him from becoming a musketeer!"

Athos simply shook his head in exasperation and walked away, leaving Aramis to mutter angrily to himself as D'artagnan came back down the stairs.

The Gascon gave a few experimental swings of his sword, a slight grimace the only external sign that his wound was stretching slightly. Athos' eyes narrowed, but he did not comment; D'artagnan had said he was up for the fight, and Athos believed him.

All the same, as they began sparring, Athos kept his strikes light and slow, not wishing to press D'artagnan too hard, but the lad was having none of it. His returning strikes came fast and hard, forcing Athos to switch to the defensive.

However, just a few minutes into the session, Athos could see D'artagnan was beginning to tire. His strikes became clumsier and he began to favour his uninjured side. Athos knew it was time to bring the fight to an end, twisting out of the way of a particularly clumsy attack and watching as the Gascon overbalanced onto the ground.

"Not bad for an injured recruit" he said dryly, watching as D'artagnan slowly pulled himself to his feet. "A lesson into how to fight through injury without your enemy noticing where your weak spots are will be needed soon, however."

"How about now?" D'artagnan replied eagerly. Despite the fact the pain in his side was reaching a rather uncomfortable level, and his legs were feeling rather too wobbly for his liking, the rush of the fight had put him in a better mood than he had been in in weeks.

"No" Aramis stated firmly from their table. "I would suggest that that is enough for today, we do not want to tire D'artagnan out any more." He shot a meaningful look at Athos, who took a closer look at D'artagnan and saw the pale pallor of his skin and decided to take Aramis' advice.

"Don't worry" he muttered to D'artagnan has he walked past. "We'll go again tomorrow."

THE MUSKETEERS

As the weeks stretched on, D'artagnan's strength bounced back in the way only a young man's could. His training sessions with Athos, Aramis and Porthos returned to their regular frequency, with Athos always around to give advice when he fought the other two. Not only was D'artagnan's swordsmanship improving, but Aramis had taught him to shoot just as well as any other man in the regiment and Porthos was in the process of teaching hand to hand combat. D'artagnan was having a bit more trouble getting to grips with that skill; being small and slight, he could dodge attacks easily, but his strikes were not as powerful as the other men's.

Treville continued to watch D'artagnan with increasing interest as the weeks went on. The Gascon was streets ahead of his current recruits, and as Athos had once said, he could easily become one of the best, if not the best Musketeer in the regiment. Treville knew that was partly down to his tutors, but also his raw talent and willingness to work hard. Athos' new teaching technique involved more praise, but also more work, and the Gascon was flourishing under his guidance.

Rather than hearing D'artagnan train alone, Treville often heard Athos sparring with him late into the night. The former Comte hardly ever spent the night in the tavern anymore, so this new training regime was clearly of mutual benefit to both men. D'artagnan was helping to smooth out Athos' rough edges by giving him something other than his demons to focus on, and in return Athos' attention was transforming D'artagnan's potential into skill.

Treville smiled from his place on the balcony as he watched D'artagnan disarm Athos for the third time in a row. His job could be incredibly difficult, but it was moments like this that made it worth it.

 **Well, there you go! I really hope you enjoyed that last chapter, thank you to everyone for bearing with me while my creativity abandoned me for a bit. I would absolutely LOVE to receive some prompts if there is anything you want to read, I don't think I've ever enjoyed writing fanfiction more than I am at the moment! So feel free to PM me if there's anything you would like, preferably D'artagnan angst centred :D**

 **As always, reviews are greatly appreciated and genuinely do make my day!**


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